


A Start

by Wild_Roses



Series: Wizarding World One Shots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkwardness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Random Encounters, Reconciliation, Rehabilitation, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13945023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wild_Roses/pseuds/Wild_Roses
Summary: Draco runs into someone unexpected at his psychologist's office.





	A Start

The room was aggressively relaxing. The walls a soft blue tone, suitable for a nursery. The paint chip had probably labelled the colour _baby ocean breeze_ , or something similarly obscene. Draco smirked at his own wit before moving on to analyze the rest of the waiting room. A charm puffed out lavender mist every five minutes precisely. Draco had been waiting for fifteen. A modern, silver framed clock ticked the seconds away on a wall behind his head. The beige linen couch Draco sat in sank around him, embracing him in an intimate manner that made him uncomfortable. On the table in front of him was- no shitting- a Zen sand garden with a fairy sized rake. 

This was too much.

Draco moved to stand up, thinking to leave. A door opened from down the hall and he could hear soft voices. He froze as he recognized one of the voices, thanking the unknown person in a muffled way. She sounded stuffed up. Perhaps she had been crying.

Definitely time to leave. 

But it was too late. Draco twitched, his body fighting between turning and hiding his face and drawing up straight and tall and imperious. In the end, he met her gaze in a sheepish manner, his head tilted a little to the side so his blonde bangs partially obscured his eyes. 

She gave a slight smile and nodded in greeting. Hermione Fucking Granger. The image of her screaming on his drawing room floor invaded his mind. He wasn’t sure what his face did in response. A horrifyingly awkward twitch similar to that of his body a moment ago, Draco supposed.

Granger left, the bell charm on the door tinkling sweetly behind her.

Thus, Draco’s next hour with Diane- the psychologist- became entirely dedicated to Hermione Fucking Granger. As he slammed the door to the office behind him, Draco suspected he might need several more sessions of discussing Hermione Granger before he could move on with it.

~*~

Moving his appointment for another day had seemed like a great idea at the time. It would have been a great idea had Granger not evidently had the same idea. And the same fucking schedule. Draco cursed Diane in some very creative ways as he entered the room she ran her sessions in the next week. She hadn’t _thought_ to warn him he would be following _Granger’s_ appointment time once more, even though he’d clearly moved his own to avoid such uncomfortable encounters. 

Draco would’ve quit if he weren't legally obligated to attend he felt so betrayed.

The room smelled faintly like her. Draco wished he had no idea how she smelled. But he was certain that Diane’s office didn’t usually smell like parchment and sweet peas.

~*~

The next week, Granger slipped him the card to her office.

 _Owl me sometime_ , it said neatly on the back of the card. She still hadn’t spoken a word to him. Just little smiles as they passed each other in the hall of the psychology office.

Draco rebooked for a different day of the week.

And then he sent her an owl.

They met at a little café a block away from Diane’s office. Diane practiced in a discreet muggle location for the _confidentiality_ of her clients. _Fuck that,_ thought Draco.

Hermione drank coffee. Draco had a black tea. Hermione made pleasant small talk until Draco blurted out, “It’s court mandated.”

Hermione smiled gently and shrugged, “I’m just fucked up.”

That surprised him. The curse. Or the honesty, maybe.

Draco gulped back his scorching tea. He slammed the cup down and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Hermione closed her eyes for a long moment. “Anyways, you’re not the one who carved _mudblood_ into my arm.” 

“No, but-” Draco couldn’t think what to say. Nothing he could ever say would possibly be good enough. Diane certainly couldn’t help him untangle this cluster fuck.

“You were doing the best you could, Draco. We appreciated you not confirming our identities, nonetheless.”

Draco widened his eyes at her. “But I wasn’t, is the thing, Granger. I was _not_ doing the best I could.”

“Well you’re trying now aren’t you?” Hermione replied in that manner she had that left no room for negotiation.

“I suppose,” Draco shrugged, still feeling immensely uncomfortable. He paid for their drinks and offered to escort her home. A start, he reasoned.

~*~


End file.
